From Russia, with Love
by TheLadyHoll
Summary: Olivia thought it was a onetime deal to catch a killer when she gets the order from the FEDS to go undercover as a burlesque dancer at a Russian-mob owned club so a case isn't blown.Elliot infiltrates to protect her.But how far 'undercover' will they go?
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure you're okay with doing this Olivia?" Cragen asked from the driver's seat of the cab.

"Yeah I'm sure – it's the only way I can get a confession out of the girls and get close to Kozlov" Olivia replied, steeling herself to walk into the club.

"And it's not Olivia" she corrected the older man wryly as she got into character…"Svetlana, only my close friends call me Olivia".

A square jawed bouncer came over to the cab door. Cold grey eyes flicked over her body appraisingly and Olivia resisted the urge to hit the man.

"Very nice" he said in a thick Russian accent. "Come - Sergei is waiting for you. You don't want to keep a man like Sergei waiting".

Olivia passed Cragen a twenty dollar bill and stepped out of the cab, extremely conscious of just how short her skirt was.

Not quite believing what she was about to do, Olivia walked into the club with her bouncer escort. Four girls in the last month had been found murdered in various parts of the city.

The last victim they'd pulled out of the river only several hours ago, after the undercover sting had been planned.

What the murdered women had in common was the fact that they were all young, no older than mid-twenties and they had been doused with vodka and then shot in the back of the head, execution style before their bodies were disposed of by setting them on fire.

Forensic evidence showed that each girl had been born in different districts of Russia, and that their bodies showed signs of extreme sexual activity.

So it was no surprise when their investigation had brought them straight to the Russian mob's doorstep, or rather – to the doorstep of the burlesque strip club owned and used by the mob as a kind of epicentre and meeting place.

Fin, Elliot and Munch were already inside the club, sitting fairly spread out. Munch was at the bar; using what Russian he could to dispel any suspicion over his unfamiliar presence in the club.

Fin was right near the front stage, appearing to be captivated by a busty blonde dancer in an ice blue sequined costume.

Elliot was closer to the middle group of tables, near where she presumed the suspected mob leaders were seated judging by the amount of vodka, cigars and bodyguards surrounding them.

She was taken into a back room and told to get ready – she would called onstage in twenty minutes. Olivia felt her heart sink as she looked around the room. She knew she was good undercover, but she wasn't this good.

Sitting down at the corner of one vanity, she pulled her hair out of its ponytail and tried to work it into something a little more alluring.

"You are new at this yes?" one of the striking blondes raised her perfectly penciled eyebrow archly, a look of amusement crossing her delicate features.

"Yes" Olivia agreed sighing; she didn't need to act for this part.

"I should think so, what man vould want an old woman" the girl turned away, whispering cattily to her friends.

"I don't think any of the clothes vould fit her anyvay – she's much too full chested and her hips are like a cows".

"That's enough Olga" another blonde stood up, or stood out was perhaps a better way of phrasing it. Not only was she wearing one of the revealing burlesque costumes, but she was also sporting a very pregnant belly.

The first blonde tossed her hair back haughtily, "Votever, both of dem will be gone soon enough – Sergei vill never keep ugly girls the men von't want".

"Then I guess you must be performing some very special services for him to keep you around" Olivia shot back, unable to help herself.

Evidently, this Olga wasn't very popular amongst the dancers and aside from the seven or so snotty dancers flocking around Olga, the rest of them burst into laughter at Olivia's comeback.

"Come on honey, let's get you fixed up. You're going to need a whole lot more mascara – this ain't exactly the Ritz".

The other girls took Olivia under their wing and began curling her hair and sorting through racks of costumes, happily chattering – everyone having a hand in her transformation.

And transformation it was – Olivia barely recognized herself after the girls were done with her. Although maybe that was a good thing; she couldn't imagine the real Olivia Benson going out and gyrating on a stage.

Val – the pregnant girl who had first stood up for Olivia had showed her a simple beginning routine before she had to rush out for her curtain call. And after Olivia had practiced a few times backstage she thought she could at least manage to not fall flat on her face as soon as she walked out on the stage.

When Val returned, she sat down on the couch across from Olivia grimacing – a fist pressed into her back.

She caught Olivia staring and smiled ruefully, lacing her hands over her belly. "I know…crazy huh? But some guys are into it so Serg has let me keep working…God knows I need the money for when this little guy or girl comes along.

She rubbed the large swell, her tired face lighting up as she spoke about her unborn child.

Olivia blushed at being caught "I just don't know how you do it – you must be close to term. When are you due?"

"8 weeks to go I think"

"You think? You're not sure?" Olivia winced hearing her last remark. Lord, it must sound as if she was judging this poor girl. Besides, it wasn't any of her business who the father was or when he was in the picture.

"I'm sorry Val, I didn't mean it like that" Olivia apologized reaching for the other girls hand, but pausing when she heard Val start to laugh.

"No, no, no" she giggled again. "The father is my boyfriend Pavel…it's just, we're all Serge's girls here…he doesn't like us going to the doctor or going out other than shopping or work".

"So you haven't seen a doctor?" Olivia asked, alarmed for the young girl.

"Nope, but I can feel him kicking up a storm so I know he's okay".

"But what if it wasn't? What if something happens or goes wrong during labour?" Olivia couldn't help from asking.

The other girl shrugged helplessly; "everyone helps each other out at the house, although I'm the only one who's not Russian. I'm from Texas. But I'll have lots of help during the birth. Now come on, enough about me – you're on in 5 – shoo!"

Waiting just behind the stage curtains, Olivia could hear the crowd as the dancer onstage finished her act. Practicing the series of steps in her head, she took a last deep breath – not to mention a shot of vodka to calm her nerves – and stepped out.

The deep voice of the announcer boomed out; "and now, everyone welcome to the stage for the first time here at the Matryoshka Club – Whistlin' Dixie. This little mama likes nothing better than a bubble bath for two and, oh hey looky here: says she likes a man who knows how to handle his gun. Give it up for Dixie everybody!"

Olivia snorted quietly to herself, she had tried to write her 'introduction' as her character – but knowing Munch, Cragen & Fin were in the audience she couldn't help adding in that last bit about the gun. And from the muffled laughter she could discern above the yells of the crowd, she knew that little slip of humour wasn't lost on them.

The red velvet curtains parted slowly, the golden fringe sweeping the floor. But all he saw was darkness.

And then a single spotlight hit the stage, illuminating a lone figure in the centre whose head was bowed – partially hidden by the sweeping feathers of her headdress.

Olivia felt the spotlight sear into her shoulders, making them prickle with heat and heard the beginning bars of music.

This was humiliating, her friends and co-workers seeing her exposed like that – prancing around on a stage, selling her body; or at least the image of it to the dozens of horny men calling out and whooping when she took her first step out.

Elliot's mouth went dry, every cell in his body turning uncomfortably hot and heavy as Olivia started to dance and mouth along to the lyrics – and hard as he might try to convince himself, and others otherwise – it wasn't the vodka making him feel this way.

Her hair was loose, glossy chestnut curls tumbling to just above the gently glistening skin of her bare shoulders. One side was pulled back with an array of dark rhinestones that glittered wickedly and attached to a deep purple feather – so purple it was almost black.

The deep brown eyes he knew how to read so well were framed by thick black lashes that would have made her look doll eyed of it wasn't for the thick swipe of cat-eye eye liner swept across her eyelids.

Her lips shone with a berry coloured gloss – looking lusciously sweet & sticky.

As his eyes moved down her body he was glad for the alcohol present that he hoped would temper his obvious, not to mention immediate hard and ready arousal.

She was wearing a corset that left little to the imagination; although compared to what Elliot had seen thrust out on the stage earlier in the night he was sure this was the tamest outfit she could find.

It was made out of rich, inky purple velvet, not unlike the feather in her hair. And dotted and covered with various sizes and shapes of black rhinestones.

The demi cups that barely contained the half swells of her breasts were completely covered in the black angular stones, but your eyes moved down, they thinned out in concentration until there were only a few scattered here and there, deliberately designed to draw the viewer's eye down to the cleft of her thighs; the velvet providing the perfect sensual backdrop of moist heat and texture.

Elliot felt his own kind of moist heat rise as she slid her black gloved hands down her body torturously slowly as she straddled a chair and leaned back in a deep arch – pale creamy breasts thrust to the ceiling like perfect halves of a moon.

Now Olivia Benson had killed before, but never was there such a massacre as she slayed every breathing man in the audience as she danced. No, it was more the phrase 'killer curves' that came to mind as he watched her generous hips sway in time and her hair flick over her shoulder as she winked back at the audience in an open mouthed saucy grin.

Olivia started to breathe a little easier now that she was almost done her routine – although her full to bursting corset didn't do much to help that fact.

It seemed Olga was wrong, because unless she was mistaken she was a hit with the men at the club. At least if they're tortured faces and hands twitching close to the suddenly too tight flies of their pants were any indication.

Nope, guess she wasn't past her prime. And damn if it didn't feel just a little good to know that – to feel the power she exuded over the men as much as she detested the exploitation of women and their bodies.

"Dis is the new one?" Elliot heard a deep gravelly voice behind him speak in a thick Russian accent to one of his bodyguards flanking him on either side of the table.

"Bring her over here".

Elliot's grip tightened on his glass as a blonde bodyguard walked to the front of the stage, gesturing for Olivia to follow him as she finished her short act.

Oh…this was it. Olivia thought as she wended her way through the tables – doing her best to avoid the barrage of hands that came close to grabbing her as she went past.

Her willed her fists to unclench as she came to a stop in front of the man everyone called Sergei Kozlov. The man who Olivia was out to prove was responsible for the deaths of the four young women as well as money laundering and prostitution.

"My name is Svetlana Pljevlja _**(A/N: pronounced Pul-YAY-vee-lya)**_… some of my friends call me Olivia because it sounds like my last name".

"And you are Russian? Yet you have no accent".

"My father was Russian, my mother Hungarian. But I was born in America although I speak the language a little" – she used a heavier accent now as well as throwing in a few choice words in Russian to assure him.

"But votever gets the men going – is vat I vill do" her voice turned husky and suggestive – although inside Olivia was cringing and resisting the impulse to cross her arms over her chest to stop the group of men from ogling her like they were with vodka soaked eyes and senses.

"Good – I think you vill fit in here. Have de girls explained the rules of being a matryoshka?"

Olivia inclined her head; "a little…but I can learn".

"You'll need to learn quickly…I do not tolerate any disobedience for my girls. But for all that you will be taken care of – you understand da? Yes?"

Sergei asked if she understood in Russian before quickly translating to English and Olivia nodded.

"Good – now zis man here has not spent money on any of the girls, see if you can tempt him, no?" Sergei nodded towards Elliot who was listening closely at a nearby table.

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but the cold steely eyes of her new boss and captor told her this was a test – one she needed to pass.

What she didn't know was whether she should be thankful he'd pointed out Elliot instead of a random stranger, or terrified out of her skin because it WAS Elliot he chose.

"Hey" Sergei called out to Elliot "on the house".

Elliot smiled, "no thanks, not tonight".

"She is beautiful, no?"

"Yes" Elliot agreed, wishing his voice didn't sound so husky.

"Well there you go" Sergei waved his hand dismissingly and Olivia came over to stand in front of Elliot, trying to hide how desperately nervous and awkward she felt.

She closed her eyes a moment longer than necessary as she blinked, trying to calm her nerves. But before she could open them she felt strong hands take her by the waist; strong…but gentle -and oh so heartbreakingly familiar.

She placed her hands unsteadily on Elliot's shoulders as she placed one knee on the couch on either side of him so she was straddling him on the low slung chair.

Her hair fell in a sleek curtain over his face and Elliot shuddered with the tension of trying not to come then and there; thinking how mortifying that would be to explode like an inexperienced schoolboy.

His hands moved up her hips to span her waist, and as she teased his earlobe with her tongue he rubbed his thumbs in slow circles until they just brushed the undersides of her breasts as he held her close.

Olivia let out a short sharp breath as she felt her nipples tighten almost painfully with pleasure as Elliot's hands moved in an intoxicating titillating rhythm over her body.

The mindful attention of his hands clawed her through with desire until she was writhing against him in helpless rhythm, so aware and cognizant of the hot wet ache that throbbed between her legs.

But then his hands slid downward; palms brushing over the velvet covered tips of her breasts until they came down her body again and he cupped her against him. Filling his hands with the full ripe curve of her bottom, his hands coming around her so that he could pull her legs apart a little further and slide her closer into him.

God, he was good. Olivia might almost believe he was aroused – she was hazy with desire. Only as her hands brushed below his belt buckle as she ground against him that she felt the truth of him as he sucked in a sharp breath. He was as aroused as she was.

This was wrong…this was bad – really, really bad. But God help her at the moment she didn't care as she rubbed herself up and down Elliot – forgetting everybody and anybody else was in the room as she let her head fall back with pleasure as Elliot sucked on her neck, drawing his teeth across her shoulder until she shivered with the feel of each and every one of her sense and nerves awakened. Even the ones she had thought long gone.

Suddenly, the loud cheers erupting from all around the room broke the two out of their heady reverie.

"Oh my God" Olivia whispered, her eyes growing large and round and frightened before she snapped back into character as 'Dixie'.

Elliot's reaction was the same as Olivia slid down his body and twirled around in a mocking bow to the answering cheers of the room.

What the hell was that?


	2. Chapter 2: Hooked into Hooking

**Hey everyone - sorry it took so long to update! Life has been absolutely crazy around here. Full time university and a 30 hour work week on top of that. Phew...Anyway, maybe I forgot to mention it, but most of you know by now that I am VERY motivated by reviews. The more you review, the more I am reminded of this story and the fact that it exists and therefore I need to add to it. So review! And let's see how fast I can be motivated to get the next chapter up! xo**

What the hell was that? The question remained in both of their eyes as they played up to the crowd.

Olivia was escorted back to Sergei's table by one of his men and the older man grinned up at her, gold teeth gleaming dully in the smoky fluorescent light. l

"Very good – she leaves them wanting more, ah? So you want the job here? As one of my girls?"

Olivia nodded, knowing that after tonight she would never be back here other than as an investigating detective; "yes, sir".

"Ah, no sir, no sir – just Sergei" he flirted idly back. But although his voice and mannerisms remained casual and friendly; the black glint in his eyes told Olivia with no uncertainty that this man could kill.

"Good. Now you are mine. The rules are simple: you vill dance whenever and for whoever I say – no excuses. All the money and tips you might receive from the men comes to me and I will make sure you have a monthly allowance for clothes and such. You will live in the house with the rest of the girls. If you are successful enough to get a sponsor, you are his. You may dance onstage but not privately with any other man or there will be consequences. And if you don't please me, or my customers, you will be dealt with… as I see fit. Pack your things and be at this address at 11 o'clock tomorrow".

Olivia nodded subserviently, backing up a few steps before she turned her back and hurried to the dressing room and away from the ogling eyes of the men, and the guilty looking eyes of Elliot.

"Not bad for a first timer!" Val congratulated her from the couch as she walked back into the dressing room. "You sure this was your first time on the stage?"

Olivia laughed, almost giddy with the adrenaline rushing through her; "Yes…I can definitely say that my job has never had me do anything quite like this".

She froze suddenly – but none of the other girls or Val seemed to notice her mentioning her job, seeing as she wasn't supposed to have one now that she was a 'matryoshka'.

Before this night was over, she had to find out everything she could about the girls who had been murdered.

"So what is being a matryoshka like, how is it working for Sergei. He doesn't seem like the friendliest guy?" Olivia asked as she wiped off her makeup, using copious amounts of Kleenex and toner to scrub the heavy mask off her face until she felt like herself again.

Val grabbed her arm, shaking her head almost indiscernibly from side to side.

"Look, you're new here so I know you don't know all the rules. But one you need to know absolutely is that no one talks about Sergei's business. We dance, we entertain the men, and in turn we're taken care of".

She gestured around the room. "Most of these girls are either off the streets, or are illegals from Moscow. Your business is your own business and you don't go talking about anyone else's unless you want to lose a lot more than your job…the moment you accepted Sergei's offer you became his property; and Sergei does not let go of what he thinks to be his easily. None of them do" she gazed ruefully down at her belly.

"I wanted to leave when I found out I was pregnant…I didn't want to bring a child into this world". She threw her hand out when she said this, meaning the club and her job.

"But where else would I go? On the streets? Sergei's men would find me. And besides, Pavel claimed me as his so he knows this is his baby…I'm just lucky he didn't insist on an abortion, I don't know what I would have done".

"They can do that?" Olivia hissed, "Val, you know a woman has full rights over her body and reproduction right?"

"Maybe in the outside world" the younger girl said, smiling sadly.

"But most girls are so scared of losing their jobs that they get abortions before anyone else knows – it is mandatory unless the child belongs to one of the Vednaya" she added, naming the sector of the Russian mob Sergei controlled.

"Whoops! I'm up again" she heaved herself up off of the couch, "see you later Olivia".

When Olivia came out of the dressing room, her heart froze. Elliot was standing talking with Sergei and another one of his men Val had identified as Andrei – and for a moment she thought they had been caught and their cover blown.

Sergei noticed her out of the corner of his leering eyes and motioned for her to come over by snapping thick, meaty fingers together.

She forced a simpering smile on her face and walked over to the men, careful to keep her steps short and her hips swaying like she'd been instructed by the girls backstage.

"Svetlana, Olivia, dorogaya moya" he started, using a Russian endearment to call her 'my dear'. "I would like you to meet Elliot Vodorov. He is Andrei here's cousin and American businessman. He runs shipping business for inport/export".

Confused and more than a bit wary of the change in plans, Olivia ducked her head submissively and whispered something suitably insipid and flattering.

"Elliot here has very generously claimed you for his own matryoshka. This is great honor for you being one of the newer dancers. I trust the girls have told you the rules – you belong to him now. And you answer only to him and me".

He turned back to Elliot, who was now scowling slightly and Olivia begged him with her eyes not to lose his temper. But Elliot Stabler was in control of himself, "I don't want your typical submissive shy crap – you show me the fire you showed everyone onstage or the deal is off".

Although she still held Elliot's eyes with her own, Olivia could feel Sergei's cold gaze on her back. Eyes flashing and mouth twitching to hide a smile Olivia moved towards Elliot quickly, sinuously – sliding a hand inside the collar of his dress shirt and loosening his tie as she pulled his head closer, kissing and biting him with gentle but hungry pleasure.

"Well then why don't we get out of here daddy and you can show me just how big your guns are".

The men roared with laughter, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into with this one. We will discuss business tomorrow eh? After everyone is a bit more rested, or unrested as it may be" Sergei bit down on his cigar and elbowed Elliot in the ribs before turning back to his table and Andrei, summarily dismissing them.

"Your cousin's company will benefit the family greatly Andrei, you did good to bring him to us".

The men finished with a shot of straight vodka to cement the deal and Elliot slid his arm around Olivia and escorted her out.

Cragen pulled up in a black limousine this time, and Elliot and Olivia got in – what they didn't expect was Andrei to get in with them.

Elliot pulled his gun immediately as the stranger closed the car door, but 'Andrei' held a hand up, signaling for silence as he peered out the tinted windows before pulling out a silver shield from a hidden compartment of his jacket.

"Gregory Evans, FBI".

"You're with the Feds?" Olivia asked disbelievingly, but she didn't receive an answer. What she did receive was a scornful glare from the agent before he let loose a string of muttered curses.

"What the hell do you think you were playing at in there?" the man snapped, running a faintly scarred hand through his hair. "You could have blown a yearlong investigation not to mention get us all killed with that amateur shit".

"No one informed us of any police activity" Cragen cut in from the driver's seat, calmly holding up a hand to keep his two best detectives from exploding at the Fed in the backseat. "Lucky for you this was a one night stand, no pun intended, so we're out of your hair as of now".

"Oh no you don't…You're not getting off that easy. Your detectives here are going to keep up this little charade for at least the next two months for us. And before you tell me that you don't answer to me I suggest you think about the fact that I have express permission from the police commissioner to pull you for this".

Elliot and Olivia were seething by now, and Elliot wanted nothing more than to deck the younger man sitting in front of him, barely more than a kid, telling him how to do his job".

"Pack up your lives, this weekend detectives – or shall I say, the newest admissions to the Vednaya".

**ALSO! For my lovely ramblings/humor/pointofview on each new episode of Season 13, please follow/subscribe me on Youtube at TheLadyHoll :) and Lmk what you think! **

**Oh yes, & R E V I E W R E V I E W R E V I E W R E V I E W R E V I E W RE V I E W**


	3. Chapter 3: Temptation's Test

**Hey everybody! Look! I'm not dead! Sorry it took so long to update. I'm working a 40 hour work week on top of full time university. Aaah! It's ridiculous, but apparently although it takes a little longer, I write better - or at least smuttier :P Which for this story is good thing. Warning! The next chapter gets very intense & adult. Just FYI, nothing graphic persay, just abstractly descriptive. **

**If you review, I wra-write! Lol**

The plans were set so that Olivia would spend 3 days at the house Sergei kept for his matryoshka's – and the other four days with Elliot at a separate apartment. The days Olivia stayed with the other girls, Elliot was supposed to be away on 'business'. The only reason she was allowed out of the house was because she was now instantly one of the highest ranking matryoshka's because of Elliot 'Vodorov's claim over her.

Unfortunately the same stroke of luck that gave them access to the innerworkings of Sergei's criminal activities also meant Olivia wouldn't be too popular with the other girls, especially as she was a newcomer and had climbed the ranks so quickly – without ever having to sleep on command with another man.

Their first night undercover would be their first test as well. TARU had set it up so it appeared as though Elliot had a legitimate import/export business, so Sergei was holding an exclusive dinner party for the launch of this new joint business venture and partnership. All the highest ranking members of the Vednaya mafia would be in attendance as well as other executives Sergei hoped to woo into business – or at least into bed with his girls for the chance at either blackmail and extortion or finding new deeper pocketed sponsors.

"You ready for this?" Elliot whispered in Olivia's ear as they stood at the top of the marble staircase that descended into the main ballroom. The wing of the house the matryoshka's lived in consisted of a series of apartments that resembled decent starter apartments, but even the nicest of those looked positively dilapidated compared to the luxury and decadence of Sergei's on display tonight.

Olivia was one of only 3 matryoshka's allowed to leave the complex, and that was only tolerated as Sergei needed Elliot's business, and he believed he held enough sway over him via his cousin that he wouldn't, and couldn't defect or back out at the last moment.

In this case, blood was what had gotten him into the Russian mob, and it would be blood out if ever either one of them tried to leave without Sergei's blessing, that is, his permission.

Elliot and Olivia forced their thoughts back to their covers, remembering they were here as mistress and executive instead of detectives.

With the opulent surroundings and the way Olivia was dressed, Elliot had no problems turning his attention to her and the sinuous curve of her body close to his.

Bands of amethyst satin bound her breasts, the twins swells pushed up to draw attention to the heavy diamond collar around her neck – a welcome gift from Sergei that had been left in her room. Olivia detested it. It was large, tackily so and reminded her of a dog collar, the cold metal and stones feeling like the barrel of a gun against the vulnerable flesh of her neck, choking her so she could never escape.

Below, the banded satin ended just below her hips, waterfalling in a delicate sheath of chiffon that rippled with every slight movement she made.

As they finished their descent down the stairs, Sergei came over to them – eyeing Olivia in a way that made her skin crawl. Only the steady warmth of Elliot's arm around her waist kept her from fleeing or shuddering from the goose bumps she felt threatening to give her away.

"You chose well, Vodorov. She is exquisite – perhaps I should have taken her for myself, eh?" Gold teeth glinted between the heavy jowls of his face.

Elliot pulled Olivia closer, his hand resting just beneath her belly button as he shrugged easily smiling "I do my women like I do business – I take what I want, and never share my wealth". He spoke with an arrogant sense of calm, but Olivia felt his fingers twitch against her skin, moving them in soothing rhythm that said to her that he would never let anyone touch her.

Sergei roared with laughter, clapping Elliot on the back and motioning for a waiter to bring over 3 tumblers of vodka. "Na Zdorov'ye – to your health!"

Olivia winced slightly as she drained her glass, she had a feeling whatever taste she had had for vodka before this undercover operation would very quickly disappear after weeks of this.

"So tell me Elliot, does she please you in bed? Make her beg for you? You didn't choose the youngest dancer to be sure".

"Whoever takes a bite of a sour grape before it has been sweetened by the sun and its seasons is surely a fool. There is something to be said for maturity, they are not needy and clingy like the young ones".

"Too true" Sergei nodded holding up his tumbler in agreement.

"Besides, she learns quickly. So yes, she pleases me greatly" Elliot said slickly, moving his hand up to trace circles over the bared small of her back. Olivia tried to suppress the shiver of desire that rocked through her despite Elliot's sinister comments because she knew the minute movement of his hand was meant to reassure her, comfort her in light of the atrocities he had to force himself to speak. No one else could see the soothing circles he traced on her skin.

There were probably 20 other couples at the dinner – some having come together, others having found partners in the ready supply of girls Sergei had in full supply during cocktails.

Olivia didn't speak during the meal, none of the girls did unless spoken to first by their partners. Nor did they eat until the men at their sides had taken a first bite. She merely sat in silence, listening to the filthy comments of the men as they jibed each other and Elliot, asking if such a cold bitch gave a good fuck.

Apparently Sergei had a larger delusion of grandeur than either of them had thought. As soon as the last course had been cleared away, a full string orchestra was led into the ballroom.

"And now, dance" Sergei commanded. "Go…have good time, we'll see if you dance as nicely as you do onstage".

Reluctantly, Elliot and Olivia found themselves ushered over to the dance floor. Olivia drew in a shallow breath, Elliot would never know, could never know how many times she'd dreamed of this moment. Well, not exactly like this – but to be in Elliot's arms as they danced. It was cruel fate that had her dream come true while she was trapped in a lie and a nightmare. It was the sweetest journey into hell that Olivia could have ever imagined as Elliot threaded her fingers with his and pulled her stiff, trembling body lightly into him.

Elliot clenched his teeth as he pulled Olivia into him – her body fit so perfectly against him. She would never know how much she affected him, she could never know. They had had enough problems between them stemming from their closeness – and he would never risk losing her.

He'd gone 13 long years hiding his feeling for her, and it looked as though he'd spend another 13 doing the same damn dance, so to speak. In his mind, the ink had been dry on his divorce papers since before Eli had been born despite his marriage only having been legally ended a year ago.

Though he would never admit it, Olivia thought, Elliot was a superb dancer. He made her feel weightless in his arms as he spun her around the room in time to the waltz being played by the band.

She felt beautiful when she was around him, she felt like a woman. And if she didn't know better she'd say Elliot felt the same way as she watched his gaze on her as they danced.

The music sped up slightly, transforming into an achingly sensual, sex soaked latin number. Elliot pulled her closer, spinning her so her back was to his front, her hips slid silkily across his groin and he stifled a groan.

The music swelled to its climax as Elliot tried to keep from reaching his. The dance ended in a low dip, Elliot's hand burning against the slick flesh at the small of Olivia's back.

Their foreheads touched and their breathing was heavy and laboured. Neither one wanted to be the first to let go.

_**So ra-ra-review!**_


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